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THE CHURCH OF THE THESSALONIANS
1Th 1:1 (R.V.) THESSALONICA, now called Saloniki, was in the first century of our
era a large and flourishing city. It was situated at the
northeastern
corner of the Thermaic gulf, on the line of the great Egnatian road,
which formed the main connection by land between Italy and the East.
It was an important commercial centre, with a mixed population of
Greeks, Romans, and Jews. The Jews, who at the present day amount to
some twenty thousand, were numerous enough to have a synagogue of
their own; and we can infer from the Book of Acts {Ac 17:4} that
it was frequented by many of the better spirits among the Gentiles
also. Unconsciously, and as the event too often proved, unwillingly,
the Dispersion was preparing the way of the Lord. To this city the Apostle Paul came, attended by Silas and Timothy,
in
the course of his second missionary journey. He had just left
Philippi, dearest to his heart of all his churches; for there, more
than anywhere else, the sufferings of Christ had abounded in him,
and
his consolations also had been abundant in Christ. He came to
Thessalonica with the marks of the lictors’ rods upon his body; but
to him they were the marks of Jesus; not warnings to change his
path,
but tokens that the Lord was taking him into fellowship with
Himself,
and binding him more strictly to His service. He came with the
memory
of his converts’ kindness warm upon his heart; conscious that, amid
whatever disappointments, a welcome awaited the gospel, which
admitted its messenger into the joy of his Lord. We need not wonder,
then, that the Apostle kept to his custom, and in spite of the
malignity of the Jews, made his way, when Sabbath came, to the
synagogue of Thessalonica. His evangelistic ministry is very briefly described by St. Luke. For
three Sabbath days he addressed himself to his fellow countrymen. He
took the Scriptures into his hand, -that is, of course, the Old
Testament Scriptures, -and opening the mysterious casket, as the
picturesque words in Acts describe his method, he brought out and
set
before his auditors, as its inmost and essential secret, the
wonderful idea that the Christ whom they all expected, the Messiah
of
God, must die and rise again from the dead. That was not what
ordinary Jewish readers found in the law, the prophets, or the
psalms; but, once persuaded that this interpretation was true, it
was
not difficult to believe that the Jesus whom Paul preached was the
Christ for whom they all hoped. Luke tells us that some were
persuaded; but they cannot have been many: his account agrees with
the representation of the Epistle {1Th 1:9} that the church at
Thessalonica was mainly Gentile. Of the "chief women not a few," who
were among the first converts, we know nothing; the exhortations in
both Epistles make it plain that what Paul left at Thessalonica was
what we should call a working class congregation. The jealousy of
the
Jews, who resorted to the device which had already proved successful
at Philippi, compelled Paul and his friends to leave the city
prematurely. The mission, indeed, had probably lasted longer than
most readers infer from Ac 17. Paul had had time to make his
character and conduct impressive to the church, and to deal with
each
one of them as a father with his own children; {1Th 2:11} he had
wrought night and day with his own hands for a livelihood; {2Th
3:8} he had twice received help from the Philippians. {Php
4:15,16} But although this implies a stay of some duration, much
remained to be done; and the natural anxiety of the Apostle, as he
thought of his inexperienced disciples, was intensified by the
reflection that he had left them exposed to the malignity of his and
their enemies. What means that malignity employed—what violence and
what calumny—the Epistle itself enables us to see; meantime, it is
sufficient to say that the pressure of these things upon the
Apostle’s spirit was the occasion of his writing this letter. He had
tried in vain to get back to Thessalonica; he had condemned himself
to solitude in a strange city that he might send Timothy to them; he
must hear whether they stand fast in their Christian calling. On his
return from this mission Timothy joined Paul in Corinth with a
report, cheering on the whole, yet not without its graver side,
concerning the Thessalonian believers: and the first Epistle is the
apostolic message in these circumstances. It is, in all probability,
the earliest of the New Testament writings; it is certainly the
earliest extant of Paul’s; if we except the decree in Ac 15, it
is the earliest piece of Christian writing in existence. The names mentioned in the address are all well known—Paul,
Silvanus, and Timothy. The three are united in the greeting, and are
sometimes, apparently, included in the "we" or "us" of the Epistle;
but they are not joint authors of it. It is the Epistle of Paul, who
includes them in the salutation out of courtesy, as in the First to
the Corinthians he includes Sosthenes, and in Galatians "all the
brethren that are with me"; a courtesy the more binding on this
occasion that Silas and Timothy had shared with him his missionary
work in Thessalonica. In First and Second Thessalonians only, of all
his letters, the Apostle adds nothing to his name to indicate the
character in which he writes; he neither calls himself an apostle,
nor a servant of Jesus Christ. The Thessalonians knew him simply for
what he was; his apostolic dignity was yet unassailed by false
brethren; the simple name was enough. Silas comes before Timothy as
an older man, and a fellow labourer of longer standing. In the Book
of Acts he is described as a prophet, and as one of the chief men
among the brethren; he had been associated with Paul all through
this
journey; and though we know very little of him, the fact that he was
chosen one of the bearers of the apostolic decree, and that he
afterwards attached himself to Paul, justifies the inference that he
heartily sympathised with the evangelising of the heathen. Timothy
was apparently one of Paul’s own converts. Carefully instructed in
childhood by a pious mother and grandmother, he had been won to the
faith of Christ during the first tour of the Apostle in Asia Minor.
He was naturally timid, but kept the faith in spite of the
persecutions which then awaited it; and when Paul returned, he found
that the steadfastness and other graces of his spiritual son had won
an honourable name in the local churches. He determined to take him
with him, apparently in the character of an evangelist; but before
he
was ordained by the presbyters, Paul circumcised him, remembering
his
Jewish descent on the mother’s side, and desirous of facilitating
his
access to the synagogue, in which the work of gospel preaching
usually began. Of all the Apostle’s assistants he was the most
faithful and affectionate. He had the true pastoral spirit, devoid
of
selfishness, and caring naturally and unfeignedly for the souls of
Php 2:20 f. Such were the three who sent their Christian
greetings in this Epistle. The greetings are addressed "to the
church
of (the) Thessalonians in God the Father and the Lord Jesus Christ."
No such address had ever been written or read before, for the
community to which it was directed was a new thing in the world. The
word translated "church" was certainly familiar enough to all who
knew Greek: it was the name given to the citizens of a Greek town
assembled for public business; it is the name given in the Greek
Bible either to the children of Israel as the congregation of
Jehovah, or to any gathering of them for a special purpose; but here
it obtains a new significance. The church of the Thessalonians is a
church in God the Father and the Lord Jesus Christ. It is the common
relation of its members to God the Father and the Lord Jesus Christ
which constitutes them a church in the sense of the Apostle: in
contradistinction from all other associations or societies, they
form
a Christian community. The Jews who met from Sabbath to Sabbath in the synagogue were a
church; they were one in the acknowledgment of the Living God, and
in
their observance of His law; God, as revealed in the Old Testament
and in the polity of Israel, was the element or atmosphere of their
spiritual life. The citizens of Thessalonica, who met in the theatre
to discuss their political interests, were a "church"; they were
one in recognising the same constitution and the same ends of civic
life; it was in that constitution, in the pursuit of those ends,
that
they found the atmosphere in which they lived. Paul in this Epistle
greets a community distinct from either of these. It is not civic,
but religious; though religious, it is neither pagan nor Jewish; it
is an original creation, new in its bond of union, in the law by
which it lives, in the objects at which it aims; a church in God the
Father and in the Lord Jesus Christ. This newness and originality of Christianity could not fail to
impress those who first received it. The gospel made an immeasurable
difference to them, a difference almost equally great whether they
had been Jews or heathen before; and they were intensely conscious
of
the gulf which separated their new life from the old. In another
epistle Paul describes the condition of Gentiles not yet evangelised,
Once, he says, you were apart from. Christ, without God, in the
world. The world—the great system of things and interests separated
from God—was the sphere and element of their life. The gospel found
them there, and translated them. When they received it, they ceased
to be in the world; they were no longer apart from Christ, and
without God: they were in God the Father and in the Lord Jesus
Christ. Nothing could be more revolutionary in those days than to
become a Christian: old things passed away; all things became new;
all things were determined by the new relation to God and His Son.
The difference between the Christian and the non-Christian was as
unmistakable and as clear to the Christian mind as the difference
between the shipwrecked sailor who has reached the shore and him who
is still fighting a hopeless fight with wind and waves. In a country
which has long been Christian, that difference tends, to sense at
least, and to imagination, to disappear. We are not vividly
impressed
with the distinction between those who claim to be Christians and
those who do not; we do not see a radical unlikeness, and we are
sometimes disposed to deny it. We may even feel that we are bound to
deny it, were it only in justice to God. He has made all men for
Himself; He is the Father of all; He is near to all, even when they
are blind to Him; the pressure of His hand is felt and in a measure
responded to by all, even when they do not recognise it; to say that
any one is αθεος, or χωρις χριστου, or that he is not in God the
Father and in the Lord Jesus Christ, seems really to deny both God
and man. Yet what is at issue here is really a question of fact; and among
those who have been in contact with the facts, among those, above
all, who have had experience of the critical fact—who once were not
Christians and now are
— there will not be two opinions about it. The difference between
the Christian and the non-Christian, though historical accidents have
made it less visible, or rather, less conspicuous than it once was,
is still as real and as vast as, ever. The higher nature of man,
intellectual and spiritual, must always have an element in which it
lives, an atmosphere surrounding if, principles to guide it, ends to
stimulate its action; and it may find all these in either of two
places. It may find them in the world—that is, in that sphere of
things from which God, so far as man’s will and intent goes, is
excluded; or it may find them in God Himself and in His Son. It is
no
objection to this division to say that God cannot be excluded from
His own world, that He is always at work there whether acknowledged
or not; for the acknowledgment is the essential point; without it,
though God is near to man, man is still far from God. Nothing could
be a more hopeless symptom in character than the benevolent
is this truth; it takes away every motive to
evangelise the non-Christian, or to work out the originality and
e Christian life itself. Now, as in the
apostolic age, there are persons who are Christians and persons who
are not; and, however alike their lives may be on the surface, they
are radically apart. Their centre is different; the element in which
they move is different; the nutriment of thought, the fountain of
motives, the standard of purity are different; they are related to
each other as life in God, and life without God; life in Christ, and
life apart from Christ; and in proportion to their sincerity is
their
mutual antagonism. In Thessalonica the Christian life was original enough to have
formed
a new society. In those days, and in the Roman Empire, there was not
much room for the social instincts to expand. Unions of all kinds
were suspected by the governments, and discouraged, as probable
centres of political disaffection. Local self-government ceased to
be
interesting when all important interests were withdrawn from its
control; and even had it been otherwise, there was no part in it
possible for that great mass of population from which the Church was
so largely recruited, namely, the slaves. Any power that could bring
men together, that could touch them deeply, and give them a common
interest that engaged their hearts and bound them to each other, met
the greatest want of the time, and was sure of a welcome. Such a power was the gospel preached by Paul. It formed little
communities of men and women wherever it was proclaimed; communities
in which there was no law but that of love, in which heart opened to
heart as nowhere else in all the world, in which there were fervour
and hope and freedom and brotherly kindness, and all that makes life
good and dear. We feel this very strongly in reading the New
Testament, and it is one of the points on which, unhappily, we have
drifted away from the primitive model. The Christian congregation is
not now, in point of fact, the type of a sociable community. Too
often it is oppressed with constraint and formality. Take any
particular member of any particular congregation; and his social
circle, the company of friends in which he expands most freely and
happily, will possibly have no connection with those he sits beside
in the church. The power of the faith to bring men into real unity
with each other is not lessened; we see this wherever the gospel
breaks ground in a heathen country, or wherever the frigidity of the
church drives two or three fervent souls to form a secret society of
their own; but the temperature of faith itself is lowered; we are
not
really living, with any intensity of life, in God the Father and in
the Lord Jesus Christ. If we were, we would be drawn closer to each
other; our hearts would touch and overflow; the place where we meet
in the name of Jesus would be the most radiant and sociable place we
know. Nothing could better illustrate the reality of that new character
which Christianity confers than the fact that men can be addressed
as
Christians. Nothing, either, could better illustrate the confusion
of
mind that exists in this matter, or the insincerity of much
profession, than the fact that so many members of churches would
hesitate before taking the liberty so to address a brother. We have
all written letters, and on all sorts of occasions; we have
addressed
men as lawyers, or doctors, or men of business; we have sent or
accepted invitations to gatherings where nothing would have
astonished us more than the unaffected naming of the name of God;
did
we ever write to anybody because he was a Christian, and because we
were Christians? Of all the relations in which we stand to others,
is
that which is established by "our common Christianity," by our
common life in Jesus Christ, the only one which is so crazy and
precarious that it can never be really used for anything? Here we
see
the Apostle look back from Corinth to Thessalonica, and his one
interest in the poor people whom he remembers so affectionately is
that they are Christians. The one thing in which he wishes to help
them is their Christian life. He does not care much whether they are
well or ill off in respect of this world’s goods; but he is anxious
to supply what is lacking in their faith. {1Th 3:10} How real a thing the Christian life was to him! what a substantial
interest, whether in himself or in others, engrossing all his
thought, absorbing all his love and devotion. To many of us it is
the
one topic for silence; to him it was the one theme of thought and
speech. He wrote about it, as he spoke about it, as though there
were
no other interest for man; and letters like those of Thomas Erskine
show that still, out of the abundance of the heart, the mouth
speaketh. The full soul overflows, unaffected, unforced; Christian
fellowship, as soon as Christian life is real, is restored to its
true place. Paul, Silas, and Timothy wish the church of the Thessalonians grade
and peace. This is the greeting in all the Apostle’s letters; it is
not varied except by the addition of "mercy" in the Epistles to
Timothy and Titus. In form it seems to combine the salutations
current among the Greeks and the Jews (χαιρειν and μωολς),
but in import it has all the originality the Christian faith. In the
second Epistle it runs, "Grace and peace from God the Father and the
Lord Jesus Christ." Grace is the love of God, spontaneous,
beautiful,
unearned, at work in Jesus Christ for the salvation of sinful men;
peace is the effect and fruit in man of the reception of grace. It
is
easy to narrow unduly the significance of peace; those expositors do
so who suppose in this passage a reference to the persecution which
the Thessalonian Christians had to bear, and understand the Apostle
to wish them deliverance from it. The Apostle has something far more
comprehensive in his mind. The peace, which Christ is; the peace
with
God which we have when we are reconciled to Him by the death of His
Son; the soul health which comes when grace makes our hearts to
their
very depths right with God, and frightens away care and fear; this
"perfect soundness" spiritually is all summed up in the word. It
carries in it the fulness of the blessing of Christ. The order of
the
words is significant; there is no peace without grace; and there is
no grace apart from fellowship with God in Christ. The history of
the
Church has been written by some who practically put Paul in Christ’s
place; and by others who imagine that the doctrine of the person of
Christ only attained by slow degrees, and in the post-apostolic age,
its traditional importance; but here, in the oldest extant monument
of the Christian faith, and in the very first line of it, the Church
is defined as existing in the Lord Jesus Christ; and in that single
expression, in which the Son stands side by side with the Father, as
the life of all believing souls, we have the final refutation of
such
perverse thoughts. By the grace of God, incarnate in Jesus Christ,
the Christian is what he is; he lives and moves and has his being
there; apart from Christ, he is not. Here, then, is our hope.
Conscious of our own sins, and of the shortcomings of the Christian
community of which we are members, let us have recourse to Him whose
grace is sufficient for us. Let us abide in Christ, and in all
things
grow up into Him. God alone is good; Christ alone is the Pattern and
the Inspiration of the Christian character; only in the Father and
the Son can the new life and the new fellowship come to their
perfection. |